Lucky
by Morgana Deryn
Summary: There were a lot of things Nan oughtn't to have done in her life, but the big one was probably blowing out some guy's knee caps in front of a psychopathic killer. M for canon-typical violence


**Quick and dirty one-shot I dug up and actually still kinda liked. It's a bit of a different tone from what I normally do.**

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The convenience store wasn't a glamorous place to work and it especially wasn't glamorous on the night shift. But Nan wasn't looking for glamorous, she was looking for work that paid and would let her have some flexibility with her hours. It wasn't like anyone in town was expecting much from her anyway.

Her father, Joe Hartford, was the town scoundrel. It wasn't that he was the town drunk – though he was _a_ drunk – and it wasn't that he was a crook – though he _was_ dishonest. But Joe tended to get into things he couldn't worm his way out of, things that were just a little too sad or ridiculous to go unnoticed and usually resulted in the Sheriff being called in. Joe Hartford had the county record for most misdemeanor arrests. Ed Tom had even given him a cheap plastic trophy when he hauled Joe in for his third count of driving farm equipment while intoxicated, which wasn't entirely illegal but was a damn fool thing to do and Ed Tom didn't appreciate people acting like damn fools in his county.

Nan was looking for more than that though. People had expected her to turn out as some sort of eccentric gossip fodder just like her father, someone to whisper about at the church social, and she was exactly that. But when Joe passed on two years earlier, he'd left his daughter with a house and a truck that were paid off, plus a little stretch of land just outside of town. Nan was set up rather nicely for a girl in her mid-twenties, and as far as the town matrons were concerned, all she really lacked to make her respectable was a husband.

Problem was, pretty much every man her age had known Nancy Hartford since she was in diapers. They'd all grown up together and the boys who had once been awed by Nan when she picked up a rat snake decided she was weird when she didn't want to go with them to the football game. She was easy pickings for the girls her age when she was younger and Nan had learned from them to give as good as she got. She was given a wide berth once she figured out that she could handle her tongue as well as she used to be able to handle a snake.

There was the matter of her education as well. Most girls who were writing away were doing secretary courses or learning to balance books. Nan was getting a degree in business administration with a mind to one day running her own business. She hadn't figured out what it was gonna be yet, but it was gonna be successful. That part, she'd settled on long ago. Working the night shift at the convenience store let her spend her days running what errands needed running, doing her studies, and catching up on sleep where she could.

More than that, it let her people watch. Nan was never very good with the people part of being a person. People didn't make a whole lot of sense to her and so she tried her hardest to work them out using the scientific method her high school teacher crammed down her throat. She formed a hypothesis and then she observed. Nan found that the people who were out late tended to be more themselves – they were too tired to put on an act – and so they were better for her to watch. She also got a nice cross-section of people too, from the boy whose family had lived on the property next to hers since before she could remember to the out-of-towners just passing through, looking for gas and directions back to the highway.

Nan flipped through one of the magazines from the rack. It was one of the ones about cars. She didn't know much about them, nor did she really care to, but reading passed the time and as long as she didn't mess the issue up she could go through the magazines the store had and then put them back. It saved her the trouble of hauling books around. It wasn't always the most interesting articles, but she learned a little and she killed time in the slow moments.

Nan looked up when a man walked in through the front door. He looked Mexican, which wasn't exactly odd for being this far south in Texas. He was a broad sort of guy, with hang dog eyes, heavy brows, and a wide sort of mouth. His hair was cut in a pageboy style. It looked almost like a little boy's haircut, something that didn't belong on a grown man. His clothes were exactly like what any other man might be wearing – jeans, a plaid shirt, cowboy boots – but they looked funny on him too. In fact, everything about him seemed just a little off-center, not quite right. There was something unsettling about him.

Of course, when a snake slithered out from under a rock, Nan was the girl who took a moment to see if they showed any signs of being dangerous and if they didn't, she picked them right up to give them a thorough look over. This funhouse mirror of a fellow didn't have a gun or a knife on his hip, he didn't talk to himself, and he didn't shoot her the sort of scummy looks she sometimes got from men after it got dark, and so in a moment Nan went from unsettled to intrigued.

She watched him as he moved through the aisles. He was a meticulous sort of fellow, she mused to herself as if she were taking notes on him in one of those scientific field journals, like she was some wild animal she was studying in the Serengeti. He took even, measured steps and his eyes roamed up and down the shelves in a rhythmic sort of way, so that he took everything in on the first pass and never once slowed down. He was intense, too, like he saw the meaning of the whole world in a package of corn nuts that was a week away from expiring.

Nan watched as he reached the end of the aisle and took a deep breath, straightening up a little. Then he turned and walked down the next aisle, coming back towards her. He was still moving the same way, only this time he saw something that interested him. The shelf blocked what it was from her sight, but she heard packaging crinkle and she knew that on that aisle it was gonna be some kind of snack.

He was coming closer. He reached the end of the aisle only a couple of feet from her counter. Nan sat up straighter on her stool and flashed a smile, trying to look as inviting as possible. But he didn't straighten up this time, his eyes just slipped on around the wall as he started down the third aisle. It was at that point, probably a little before, that Nan should have realized something was off about the man. She should have put her hand on the sawed-off under the counter, but she didn't. Instead, she just kept watching the man.

He walked up and down every aisle in the store, like he wanted to make sure that he'd gotten a good look at everything they offered and hadn't missed anything. He had a handful when he approached the cash register, which he dumped on the counter in front of her, and for the first time, Nan stopped smiling at him to peer down at his purchases. Sunflower seeds, a bottle of water, some duct tape, a palm-sized pad of paper, and a small wrench. It was an interesting little mix, and anybody else might have grabbed the small calculator next to the register to start totaling it up, but not Nan. Before she got into the magazines she used to read the yellowed price list tucked under the counter over and over and over to fill the late hours. It wasn't long before she realized that unless it was something really special, something that rarely came off the shelves, she could pull the sum from her head, didn't even have to check.

A little bit of quick addition and she told him, "Dollar and fifteen cents, sir. And how's your evenin' goin'?" she asked cheerfully as she pressed a couple of buttons on the cash register. The drawer popped open and she stretched out her hand for the money, looking up again. The man hadn't moved. He was just watching her with a smile that seemed like he'd put it on too eagerly once and stretched it out so it didn't quite sit right on his face anymore. Nan tilted her head. "Sir? A dollar and fifteen cents, please. Unless... didja want somethin' else?"

"And how is that your business?"

Nan blinked, eyeing him up and down. "I don't suppose it is, sir. I'm just trying to make conversation."

"And why would you do that?"

Nan sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, biting thoughtfully. He wasn't Mexican. She didn't know a whole lot on the subject but she was pretty sure about that. He sounded sort of the same as the Mexicans who passed through town did, but not _exactly_ the same. Even his accent seemed a little off for the harsh light of the convenience store.

"Well sir, it gets awful boring here at night. Mostly I just sit here and read the magazines, but every now and then it's nice to talk to a stranger."

"You find me strange?"

It was certainly a strange series of questions he was asking her and Nan was pretty sure that coming from else it would have sounded aggressive, like he was spoiling for a fight. But his voice was deep and slow and calm and he seemed incredibly relaxed. He looked straight into her eyes and Nan was normally one for making eye contact with people when she spoke to them but this was a little bit much.

"I can't say, sir. You haven't said anythin' about yourself for me to base that sort of thing on. But I know you ain't from these parts."

"And how do you know I 'ain't from these parts?'" He was mocking her accent and Nan frowned, dropping her customer smile for long enough to make her displeasure known about it. She didn't appreciate it. People thought folks that sounded like her were stupid, and in her opinion, they were the stupid ones for believing that. You accent came from where you did your learnin', not how much you learned while you were there.

"On account of the fact that you're heading down the highway late at night," Nan gestured outside, "and you don't sound like anybody I've ever heard before, sir. On top of that, I've lived here my whole life. I know ever'body who _is_ from these parts, and you ain't one of 'em."

"Good observations."

Nan relaxed a little, her smile starting to work its way back onto her face, picking up the corners of her lips. She took his words as something resembling an apology even though his expression hadn't wavered and neither had his eyes. "Thank you, sir. I still need that dollar and fifteen cents though, I'm afraid."

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of change, much more than most folks carried around with them. Nan herself kept a quarter in her shoe for emergencies and everything else was neatly folded up in her wallet in her back pocket. He picked through the pile of coins like he was looking for something in particular, but nothing seemed different about the coins he selected. Nan held out her hand, palm up, and the man held his fist out. The coins fell in a steady stream into her palm. Nan knew with a look that he'd given her too much. She dropped what she needed into the drawer and held out her hand, a quarter pinched between two fingers.

"You gave me too much, sir. This is all yours."

This time he held out his hand and she dropped the coin into his palm. It rested there for a moment and for the first time he looked away from your face.

"Call it."

"What?"

"Call it."

Nan huffed. "Sir, I don't see much point in flipping for a quarter. I ain't got any need for your money."

He shook his head and worked his fingers. The coin flipped up off his thumb and landed on the back of his hand, the other covering it up before Nan could make out what it was.

"Call-"

There was a bang outside.

"Oh, hell." Nan's eyes flashed to her customer. "Sorry, sir."

A pickup truck was outside, its headlights blaring into the front of the store, and Nan shut the cash drawer sharply. She knew that truck and she knew what was coming. The group of fellas in cowboy hats and bandanas had been knocking over convenience stores like they thought they were still in the Wild West. That truck had been all over the news, people being told to leave the scene if they saw it approaching. Of course, most people didn't say anything about it considering it was a common model and didn't come with a license plate, but Nan just had a feeling.

The fact that the boys crawling out of the bed had pistols in hand helped a little.

Nan reached out, gripping the man's wrist and pointing. "Sir, there's a door down that little hallway that leads out back. You gotta get outta here now, these boys mean business. Go on, now."

"Why would I do that?" the man seemed utterly unconcerned about the sound of booted feed running across the pavement as the men closed in on the store. Nan's eyes widened in disbelief, because cool as she was trying to play it her heart was about to beat out of her chest and this fellow looked like she'd just told him the Sunday paper had arrived, like a silly little thing like armed robbery was nothing to be concerned about.

"Sir, go on, you need to get yourself clear... If it's about that damned quarter then heads, alright, now get!"

"I think not." He was even smiling as he took a few steps backwards and crouched, concealed from view of the door by the aisle shelves. As far as those boys outside knew, she was alone in here. Nan wished she was, because she was certain now that the man was crazy.

"Sir, I've got something to base it on now." She didn't really mean to, but a crazy little giggle slid out. "I think you're as funny-turned as people say I am."

With that, Nan grabbed the sawed-off from under the counter, cocked it one-handed, and ducked. She crouched behind the counter and pressed the shortened barrel up against the thin wood sheet that served as the front of the counter. A blast from the shotgun would tear through it and whoever was on the other side at this range.

The door slammed open hard enough to knock the bell off the hook. Nan heard it clatter and roll across the floor as the footsteps got closer and closer. She held her breath and prayed.

"Where's the girl go?"

"Probably cut and run."

"Who cares? She left the register behind."

"Aw, but them things're heavy! It's easier when they just hand it over."

"Hush up, she's probably run off to call the cops. We gotta grab it and go."

Nan heard feet shifting, heard the scooch as the cash register started to slide of the counter above her, and pulled the trigger. So close and so sheltered the sound was deafening. Wood slivers flew every direction and Nan yelped as a couple peppered her face and hands, but it was nothing compared to the sound of one of the men on the other side of the counter. Before they could figure out what the hell had just happened, Nan fired again and then she moved.

Nan screamed as bullets followed her as she dove from the counter down the closest aisle. How in the hell those boys hadn't seen the mystery man who was out of his head boggled her, but she wasn't exactly concerned about it as she lay on her back on the sticky floor, gun pointed up and waiting for someone to come around the corner.

"Fucking bitch! She fucking... God damn it... My knee... My knee..."

A quavering voice. "Sh-shit Chip, that looks bad..."

Nan screamed and pulled the trigger once more as a hand holding a pistol came around the corner. It withdrew and she knew she'd missed and she knew she had to move again. Nan rolled and jumped to her feet, sprinting down the aisle in a crouch. She yelped as a bullet shattered the refrigerator door next to her and ducked down the next aisle.

Nan froze. The crazy man was there and he'd unfurled to his full height. The thieves seemed to have just now noticed him, because the one kneeling by his friend in the pool of blood just stared up in horror and disbelief, like he was looking at the Devil himself.

Nan hunkered at the edge of the aisle, back pressed to the shelf and shotgun gripped in her sweaty palms, and watched with huge eyes. The fellow she'd missed swung, trying to pistol whip the crazy man. He caught the boy's wrist like it was nothing, smoothly disarmed him, and double-tapped him, one in the chest, one in the head, like he'd been doing it all his life. The man dropped and all she could see of him was his feet, a slowly-spreading slick of blood growing around him. Nan sucked in a breath as the two on the ground looked up at the crazy man in fear and this time she understood why they were looking at him like he was Satan. Because he sort of was.

"You fucker..." The boy kneel in blood fumbled with his own sawed-off, trying to bring it up. A booted foot nailed him in the face and he tipped over backwards, his shot going wide and into the ceiling. Plaster dust rained down on all three of them as the man raised the pistol once more and calmly blew the boy's face into so much ground chuck. He moved forward and the fellow with the ruined knees reached for the gun he'd dropped when he'd gone down. The man kicked it away without breaking stride. He knelt down by the boy, careful to stay on his toes and not let his knees get in the blood. He jammed the barrel of the pistol into the ruined flesh on the fellow's leg. Nan had been the one to do it to him, but even she winced in sympathy as he howled at the burning pain from the freshly-fired gun.

He chuckled, a soft, smooth, dangerous sound, and reached out with his free hand. He plucked something from the sticky blood spread all across the floor and held it up. Nan could barely see anything but for a little metallic flash and for a second she didn't understand. Then the man said softly,

"It is her lucky day, it seems. Which means that it is not yours, my friend."

The guy on the ground managed the beginnings of a scream before another shot drilled straight through his heart and into the ground below.

Nan crumpled, her feet sliding out from under her. She sat hunkered against the shelves, legs sprawled out in front of her, still clutching the gun. She watched as the man slowly straightened up and turned towards her, and a little fearful whine worked its way out of her throat as his eyes landed on her.

"'Funny-turned.' What an interesting expression."

"H-How...?"

Nan didn't really know how she wanted to end that question. How could he be so calm? How had he known how to disarm that boy? How had he been able to stand all the blood without flinching? How in the hell had someone like him managed to stroll into her boring life?

"Where is your car?"

It was such a random question and delivered so bluntly, like they were leaning over the counter shooting the breeze and there wasn't a fresh corpse for miles, let alone three.

"W-What...?"

She didn't really have a way to end that question either, but as he started down the aisle towards her, she yelped and raised her shotgun once more.

"Y-You stay back! You come a-any closer'n I'll shoot, swear to God!"

The man smiled pleasantly. "No you won't. That would be a very poor way to repay me for saving your life. Now where is your car?"

"I-Izzat all?" Nan asked uncertainly, and reached into her back pocket, plucking out the key ring. There was nothing on it but the keys to her car and house and a rope of braided threads she'd added for some color and to make it look less sad. She pitched it. Fear made her aim squirrelly. A normal person would have missed entirely, but the man just leaned a little further and caught the keys smoothly.

"Thank you."

And then he was on her, pistol clattering to the ground and both hands closing on her biceps, hauling her to her feet. Nan felt like a puppet, letting him shuffle her along the aisle back towards the counter. She didn't know what else to do though, because he was right - crazy or not he'd just saved her life and so she wasn't gonna shoot him. Such a thing just wouldn't be polite.

The man calmly reached over the counter and plucked up a brown paper bag, shaking it open and sweeping his purchases into it. He balled the top up in his fist to keep a good hold in it and grabbed Nan again. She could feel the ridges of her keys digging painfully into the back of her shoulder as he pushed her towards the door, but she wasn't exactly keen on complaining to him at the moment even if he'd dropped his gun and she still had hers. They walked out the front door.

There were only three cars in the parking lot. It wasn't hard to guess which one was Nan's. She found herself being marched up to her own car. The shotgun was ripped from her hands and thrown into the backseat with just a little more carelessness than Nan personally liked to use when handling firearms. Nan herself was bundled into the passenger seat. The man reached in and she flinched as he reached around, buckling her into place like she was a little kid riding in the front seat for the first time. He dropped his sack of purchases into her lap and raised one finger mockingly.

"Don't move."

Nan nodded frantically, eyes wide, and watched as the man walked over to the car he'd driven up in. He opened the door, reached into the back, and pulled out some strange contraption, a hose and an oxygen canister, and kicked the door shut behind him. He hauled his cargo over to her car and placed it in the back seat with a little more care than he'd afforded to her shotgun. Nan twitched as she peered around and realized that it was a captive bolt pistol, the kind they used to slaughter hogs and steers. She swallowed hard, trying not to picture what it could do to her.

"Would you happen to have a lighter?"

Nan shook her head, her mouth hanging open blankly. The man made a small sound of something resembling disappointment.

"One moment, please."

He walked back into the convenience store and Nan had never hated how dead the place always was more than she did now. If someone else would come by they'd see what was going on, they'd see the bodies on the floor and they'd see her pale, terrified face and they'd fix everything because Nan's initial burst of boldness was gone and now she was just ready to collapse. A couple of dumbass stick-up artists were one thing, but this man was a stone-cold killer and Nan wasn't foolish enough to do anything that would tick him off.

Nan watched as he emerged from the store once more and went to his car. He moved to the rear and fiddled with something for a moment before straightening up and walking away. Nan watched him come, watched as he reached for the driver's side door handle just as his own car exploded in a ball of flames. She screamed and ducked, covering her head in her arms, feeling as the man settled his weight into the driver's seat. He shut the door behind him, dulling the sound of roaring flames, and started the engine.

"Sit up, or you will get a crick in her neck."

Nan did as she was told, snapping upright and turning to look at him with wide eyes. He smiled that same supposed-to-be-pleasant smile and snatched her hand, drawing it out. He pressed something firmly into her palm.

"That's your lucky quarter."

It was covered in the blood of the man she'd kneecapped. Nan had never felt so unlucky in her life as the man calmly signaled despite the fact that there wasn't a car for miles and turned out onto road.


End file.
